We Band of Brothers
by Cobalt2927
Summary: The Illusive Man brings back Commander Shepard, Savior of the Citadel to fight the Collectors, but is Shepard the same as he used to be? And are the Commander's actions truly his own? Garrus Vakarian is forced to rally a new crew, not only seeking victory against the Collectors, but also in a desperate attempt to save his best friend.
1. Chapter 1

The first dinner on the Normandy was a slightly awkward affair. Well… perhaps more than awkward. Garrus was sure that he had seen Krogan and Salarians find more things to make pleasant conversation about. The Mess Sergeant, a balding man named Gardner, may have had the worst sense of humour for a human that Garrus had ever seen—and humans in general were only surpassed by the Hanar. Unfortunately, he had been strong-armed into a far too lengthy conversation with the man about his unique nutritional needs, when all he wanted was to simply grab bland nutrition paste and escape back to the main battery. He really wasn't in the mood for people.

Unfortunately, the other new recruit, Mordin, a Salarian, had waved him over to his table almost immediately, and began speaking at such a rapid pace that Garrus simply couldn't process anything he was saying quickly enough to formulate a reply. Apparently, Mordin took silence as encouragement to go on.

"…Wonder if a live seeker can be obtained for study? Seem to be primarily artificial in construction. Perhaps electromagnetic pulse may disable long enough for capture. Still risky. Too risky? Perhaps Cerberus has dead specimens on hand. Will need to ask…."

"Dr. Solus, and it's Garrus Vakarian, right?" It was one of the Cerberus operatives who had gone with Shepard to… well… rescue him. "I'm Jacob Taylor. We met before. Figured I'd introduce myself now that we aren't under fire. Glad to have you both on board. How's the face feeling?"

"Fine." Garrus replied quietly, trying to find a reason to leave.

"That's good to hear. You looked like a goner when we brought you in." Garrus didn't respond, leaving Jacob to turn to Mordin instead, "How is the lab setup? You know you can talk to Miranda if you need anything else."

"Lab is excellent. Reminds me of time with STG. Impossible task ahead. Many available resources. Plenty of brainwork." Mordin gave a satisfied smile, "Glad to be here."

"Wonder where we're headed next." Jacob said, smiling as well, "I've got to say, it was really great working with Shepard thus far—haven't served under such a good commander in… well. In quite a while."

Then it struck Garrus. Shepard wasn't here. There was nothing particularly unusual about different members of the crew, or even members of the mission team taking their meals at different times—after all, everyone was on duty at different times. However, Shepard had been on the mission with them. Back on the old Normandy, he would have been down, getting to know everyone, making sure that everyone had everything they needed and encouraging candid feedback. And now, he was nowhere to be seen. Garrus sighed, realizing that he was likely not the only one who had changed in the past two years. Being on a new Normandy, that was still different in all the little ways that got under your skin was bad enough, but Garrus didn't know what he would do with a reclusive Shepard, barely more than a Cerberus puppet. Come to think of it, though, Shepard had seemed quite like his old self when they had reunited back on Omega.

"You okay Garrus?" Jacob asked, cutting into his thoughts.

"Yeah." He replied, rising, "I just remembered, I have to talk to Shepard about something." He nodded to Jacob and Mordin, leaving them to a fast-paced discussion on weapon modifications that might be most effective against Collectors.

He was met with a closed door. Well, the doors were always closed, but at least on the old Normandy Garrus would have just given a swift rap and walked in. But on the old Normandy Garrus had never needed to. Shepard had been down to talk to everyone after missions, and Garrus had been utterly satisfied with his choice to leave C-Sec. Mostly. Now, after everything that had happened on Omega… well let's just say that a friendly chat about the many ways by which Saren was going to be brought down would have been welcome.

He knocked. Nothing. Perhaps Shepard was elsewhere on the ship. Then he heard a voice coming from inside Shepard's quarters, "Garrus Vakarian to see you." It was that AI. Garrus frowned—at least _he_ was unimportant enough not to be spied on while he was sleeping—or so he thought.

"Garrus?" Shepard said, opening the door and waving the Turian inside, "What can I do for you?" He looked exhausted.

"Just here to thank you again for saving my life. We didn't really have a lot of time to talk after that gunship showed up." Garrus replied, trying to remember how they usually fell into conversation, "If you're busy…."

"No." Shepard replied, turning away from his personal console, "No. Nothing more to do today, at any rate." He gave a small smile, "How are you Garrus?"

"Oh, you know. Only missing half my face. What about you? I hear you were dead."

"Well you know how it is. You save the galaxy once and all the crazy terrorist organizations decide that they simply can't live without you around to do it all again."

"So you were actually…."

"Sounds like it. I don't really remember much." Shepard replied with a sigh, "I know I should be grateful… or… I don't know. I just can't shake seeing all those Cerberus experiments and wondering… I can't get a straight answer out of Miranda either."

"You could ask Mordin." Garrus suggested, "I'm sure he would be interested. Just can't guarantee he wouldn't try to dissect your brain or something."

"Maybe later." Shepard replied, with a faint smile, "Do you know what happened to everyone else?"

"Well… um…" Garrus scratched his fringe, shifting awkwardly, wondering how to put this, "I guess it just all… well… fell apart after you, ah, died. All the Alliance personnel was reassigned to different ships since the Normandy was gone, and I only saw the rest at your, um, funeral. Tali and Wrex both said they had to go back to help their people, but you could tell that they would have stuck around for you in a heartbeat. And, well, Liara took it really hard. I don't really think she ever forgave herself for getting off the ship when you didn't. And you know my story. Last I heard, she was trying to find you."

"Did the Council say something nice?" Shepard asked, raising an eyebrow, "Or were they just happy to be finally free from all my near-constant messages?"

"Oh no."Garrus said, mandibles flaring into a wide Turian grin, "They all said very nice things. Gave you a posthumous medal and everything. Although they might take it away now if you start harassing them again."

"Marvellous." Shepard snorted, "But in all seriousness, I didn't really hear your story. All I know is that you managed to get Omega's gangs to find common cause—actually, come to think of it, maybe I should quit and let you deal the Council."

"Probably not a good idea." Garrus replied with a wince, "Things didn't really turn out… well." He sighed, "Don't really want to talk about it."

"No problem." Shepard replied, nodding in understanding and changing the subject, "Do you know how I could contact everyone? I don't necessarily want to draw them into this mess, but if they still think I'm dead…"

"I'll see what I can do," Garrus replied, "I only know for certain where Wrex is, but I have no idea how you would contact him on Tuchunka. Same with Tali."

"I ran in to Tali, actually." Shepard said, expression unreadable, "She seemed good. Had her own squad to lead and everything… a new ship name and perhaps more frighteningly competent than ever. Had to stay with the Fleet though. Sounded like she was needed."

"I'm not surprised," Garrus said with a chuckle, "I swear she worked more in her downtime on the ship that most did when on duty."

"Says Mr. Callibrations."

"Ouch Shepard. That hurts."

"Well you were here, what, all of five minutes before you declared your face healed and made off for the main battery?"

"Ah. Well." Garrus said with a self-depreciating laugh, "You know how it is. New ship. Callibrations calling your name. Its much more fun to work on the guns than it ever was with the Mako. I'm still amazed that thing survived as long as it did."

"Oh please." Shepard replied, a glint of his old spirit back in his eyes, "We only ever rolled it over twice."

"You. Commander." Garrus pointed out, " _You_ only ever rolled it over twice. The rest of us were cowering in the backseat."


	2. Chapter 2

Miranda Lawson liked to think that she was a particularly intelligent and prepared individual. She liked to think that she was able to anticipate the actions of others, and determine the best course of action to take, based on her hypothesis. And, as she was not a particularly egotistic individual, she usually succeeded in doing just that.

For example, she had accurately anticipated that Commander Shepard would eventually come to her office to have "a discussion." Most likely about Cerberus and the way the ship was being run. She was only surprised that he had chosen to instigate said discussion so soon. But then, she supposed after his little "heart-to-heart" with Garrus Vakarian, he was likely feeling better about things and was confident enough to confront her.

"What can I do for you Commander?" She asked, the pinnacle of politeness, as he entered her office, his eyes immediately sweeping around the entire room, before finally settling on her.

"You're not busy, are you?" He asked, nothing but polite himself.

"Oh no," She replied, taking in his tense posture, arms crossed over his chest defensively, feet shifting as if on edge, eyebrows tense, "Just finishing up some mission reports. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I get the impression that your boss is a pretty busy fellow—lots of plotting to do, not enough daylight hours…. You know how it is." He was practically glaring at her, although his tone remained very civil, "And since you mentioned it, I'm a little curious about these mission reports you're doing. What exactly you're reporting on. If you're still monitoring things back on the ship when people are off duty. Thought I'd ask you."

"Fairly standard, I should think," She replied, "Similar to Alliance standards in that regard… although your file does suggest that you had some difficulties in that area."

"I was a little busy to file paperwork when I was tracking down Saren and trying to prevent the destruction of galactic civilization. Besides, Spectres don't have to fill out paperwork if the mission is deemed critically time-sensitive."

So he'd come ready to play. Shame he wasn't holding any of the cards, she could have used an amusing diversion. "And yet you still didn't submit anything afterwards." She coolly replied, "That's alright. I'm sure the Council didn't want to hear another word about the Reapers… perfectly logical they send you off to deal with the Geth and get back to ignoring every word you say."

"And I suppose the Illusive Man is different? That Cerberus isn't just using me to deal with this threat so they can cut me loose when the job's finished and the galaxy is safe again?"

"Of course not." Miranda snapped, "The Illusive Man can recognize a valuable asset when he sees one. Why would he spend billions to bring you back to life, only to betray you? Now if that's everything…."

"Actually," Shepard interrupted, clearly making an effort to keep his temper in check, "If you're going to be my XO, I think we're going to need to start working together. You could start by sharing some of your intel on this mission with me."

"Firstly, just so we're clear," Miranda replied, "You have command in all matters directly related to fulfilling our mission, but when it comes to Cerberus personnel and intelligence assets, I remain in command. Therefore, the Illusive Man will determine what you need to know, and when you need to know it. You now know about the Collectors, and I do believe you have the forwarded personnel dossiers."

"Not good enough." Shepard said, resolute, "If that's all we have, we're going to the Citadel. I'll still have some Spectre resources I can use on this."

Miranda sighed, "I understand you want to return—residual loyalty to the Alliance and the Council, longstanding ties to Anderson… but you have to understand, our intelligence on the next two prospective recruits is time-sensitive. We do not know how long Warlord Okeer will remain on Korlus, and we do not know how long it will be before Jack escapes again. I would recommend completing both missions before going to the Citadel."

"That may be true." Shepard replied, "But I'm sure it also doesn't hurt that the longer I stay out here in a Cerberus ship, the less I'll be trusted when I head back."

"If you were likely to regain the kind of resources that the Council and the Alliance could furnish you with for this mission, then by all means, I would agree we need to go to the Citadel right away." Miranda replied, exasperated, "However, they never trusted you much when you were alive, and they will trust you far less now—regardless of how much time you spend in the Terminus Systems. You will still have been dead, and you will have still been rebuilt by Cerberus. Now, if that's all, Commander?"

"Operative Lawson." Shepard ground out, "Nothing further."

Miranda sighed to herself as the door shut behind the Commander. That really could have gone better. Of course, he had ultimately agreed with her perspective—most people would count that as a win. But then, she wasn't most people. She demanded perfection from all she oversaw—and did not exempt herself from that same standard. She knew there would be difficulties bringing Shepard on board—truly on board. The man had uncovered some of the absolute worst experiments ever tied to Cerberus, and clung desperately to anything stable in his life after losing his entire world on Mindoir as a child. Of course he would object to giving up his old position in the Alliance, his old ship, his old crew—including what sounded like some of the closest friends he had ever made. But that didn't mean that he couldn't be persuaded. Bringing back the Normandy and some old crew members was a start—Garrus Vakarian was a wonderful coincidence. Even the crew was specifically chosen to be particularly tolerant to aliens, far less fervent supporters of Cerberus ideology, and most had ties back to the Alliance.

Speaking of which… she knew she would never be able to befriend Shepard—it simply wasn't her forte. Lie, seduce, and manipulate the unsuspecting—yes, in a heartbeat. But form a longstanding relationship with another individual based on mutual trust, shared goals, and a genuine interest in the other's company? She had to suppress a rather undignified snort. Fortunately, there were other options.

 _Jacob,_

 _It is my belief that Shepard will take you with Dr. Solus on the next mission. I trust I can count on you to assess how he is doing? Make sure he was not adversely affected by the combat situations we got into on Omega, and continue to test his long term and short term memory—I'm sure you can both find enough things to talk about._

 _Also, if you are able to make any additional assessments of the Salarian in combat that would be most helpful. Surveillance can only tell a person so much._

 _Regards,_

 _Miranda Lawson_

As she was sending the message, her door opened once again. Only this time, it revealed a highly unimpressed Salarian, holding what appeared to be all five of her most sophisticated (and expensive) surveillance bugs that had previously been hidden in the science lab. With the precise care of an experienced surgeon, Dr. Mordin Solus set them down on the very top of her inbox, nodded with a satisfied smile, and left without a word.

This day just kept getting better and better.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to everyone who has been reading thus far! Hope you've been enjoying the story. I also just realized I never got around to saying all of the classic "I don't own Mass Effect" business so consider it said now (with a lack of witty quips to go along with it). Sorry updating was a bit slow... I wasn't super happy with the Miranda chapter before, but I eventually just decided to press on. And now I'm confronted by the problem of Jack and her... shall we say, "colourful" language. We'll see how it goes, but I might have to up the rating. All the best!

* * *

Mordin smiled widely, humming to himself under his breath as he walked along the decks of Purgatory with Shepard and Jacob Taylor. _Experiments begun, samples taken, waiting on results._ And while unlike his time at STG, there were few who had the time or the inclination to discuss possible theories and hypotheses while waiting on their work, the crew seemed friendly enough, and Shepard had invited him to come along on the mission. Despite his age, Mordin knew it was never a bad idea to keep one's skills fresh, and while he certainly hoped that the mission remained a simple prisoner transfer, he couldn't deny some excitement at the thought that something may go wrong, and a challenge would present itself. He had always disagreed with Kirrahe on that point. _Better the mission goes well, the Captain would say,_ _That means we've planned things out perfectly, and it means everyone will be coming home. Of course, Mordin knew the risks, and knew the pain of losing comrades, but he had also always loved the sheer_ _tension present in STG—the thought that anything and everything could go wrong in an instant, and then it would be up to the team, isolated and alone, to ensure the mission was still a success despite the unforeseen._

Apparently the Commander had experienced many similar situations as Mordin had, as he (very wisely) refused to relinquish the team's weaponry to enter the ship. As they moved along, Mordin couldn't help but start to notice all the little ways that the ship's containment facilities and door locks could very easily be tripped and bypassed, and noting the age of many of the most important mechanisms. When he glanced up, he noticed that Shepard and Taylor were also highly attentive to their surroundings—glancing around corridors, keeping note of guards and prisoners, keeping exit routes and cover in mind. It was good to be working with professionals again. Omega had been slightly… chaotic. Challenging. Engaging. Intriguing. But with precious few individuals that you could rely on. Working on a skilled team would certainly be—

Was that guard beating a prisoner? _No discernable interrogation motive... Could be cruel form of punishment? No indication that prisoners in this wing have enough latitude to misbehave sufficiently to "earn" a beating. No. Clearly form of intimidation that offers guards some amusement. Unjust. Must be stopped…_

"—And what exactly is the point of all this?" The Commander was asking, apparently thinking much along the same lines as Mordin himself, "You're only degrading yourselves by doing this—making yourselves no better than they are. Is that what you want?"

Apparently it wasn't.

"Bastards." Jacob Taylor said with venom as they moved on, "Just because you have that sort of power over someone else doesn't mean that's how you use it. Having that kind of power means you have a duty. A duty to do things _right._ "

"Agreed." Mordin replied swiftly, "Clearly lack of oversight. Dangerous lack of procedures and controls on personnel. Buying and selling of prisoners. Beatings. All unconscionable. No purpose. Just pain."

"We'll have to see about doing something once we have Jack." Shepard replied, fists clenched, "This is insane. Even for the Terminus Systems."

"Noble idea." Mordin replied, considering, "Keeping criminals from hurting more people. Few law enforcement organizations able to help with the problem. Mercenaries the logical choice." He paused, "Solution however… Needs _improvement._ "

"No arguments there." Jacob replied.

Perhaps it was a credit to the Blue Suns' reputation that Jacob and Shepard were no more surprised than Mordin was when they were betrayed. Perhaps it was all the obvious clues along their route that things were not entirely as they should be. Perhaps it was the fact that they weren't escorted to the pick-up location by anyone of any importance. Perhaps their route was just a bit _too_ circuitous. Or perhaps they were all simply too familiar with how certain parts of the galaxy worked.

On the bright side, they did manage to find Jack with relative ease. Mordin didn't think that he had ever seen anyone with the same raw biotic power—typically even powerful biotics could only focus a certain amount of their energy at a time and L3 implants moderated spikes to a safe, but moderate level. _Different implants? Certainly. Experimental? Most likely. New Alliance program? Perhaps… Other faction more likely. Need more data. Known problems with L2 implants in humans. Problems of mental instability with these implants? Known criminal past. Clearly violent nature… Should investigate. Project for spare time. Yes… Will need some light work while waiting on Seeker experiments. Have not researched biotics in depth before… Will need to brush up on reading. Believe eight relevant textbooks still available back in lab… Can obtain seventeen others. Baylis et al. "Clinical Exposure to Element Zero in Homo Sapiens." necessary for work. Perhaps "The Failures of Conatix: Biotic Acclamation and Temperance Training." Useful reference…_

"Still with us doc?" It was Jacob.

"Yes. Still present. Considering new research project: 'Advances in Biotic Implants: What You Need to Know (If Human Biotic).' Working title. Perhaps can do comparisons with Asari development? Would require further research."

"Not a bad idea Mordin," Shepard replied wryly, "But you might have better luck in starting that if we catch up to Jack first."

"Of course," Mordin replied, "Qualitative interviews important component of research project. Suggest we follow the path of destroyed mechs and exothermic redox reactions."

Catching up to Jack would have been just such a simple affair, except for the fact that an entire contingent of prison guards had interposed between them, and proceeded to attempt to take Shepard "dead or alive." The point of firing at the individual they were trying to capture and ransom Mordin failed to comprehend. He also resolved to ensure that he improved his shields before going out again with the Commander on a "routine pickup mission."

Finally, the waves of mercenaries and mechs seemed to thin out as many no doubt took one look at the scores of dead, fallen before the combined firepower, biotics, and tech of the Normandy team, and decided their pay grade didn't quite justify the risk. Indeed, they were but three individuals. However, they were _professionals_. Quite in contrast to the mercenaries, and with the way they were all fighting together Mordin suspected that both the Commander and Jacob were used to fighting with other specialists with biotic and tech skills—the three barely had to communicate with each other to coordinate taking down an enemy's shield, then warping, or freezing its armour, and finally finishing it off with a burst of gunfire or incendiary ammunition.

All three were certainly exhausted by the time they caught up to Jack, who took one look at them, and then at the Normandy and proceeded to attack them. Jacob barely got a barrier up in time to stave off the worst.

"Wait." Shepard insisted, "We came here to help you get out—we want to recruit you for a mission."

"Good for you, Cerberus," Jack replied with utter contempt, "I'm not coming."

"I'm not Cerberus," Shepard said, lowering his weapon, "I'm just looking into the disappearances of human colonies in the Terminus Systems, which apparently is something they want to fund and loan ships out for. I assure you. There's little love lost between me and Cerberus."

"Great. And I'm just supposed to believe that?" Jack snorted, "You're pathetic. What if I just tear through you and your two little buddies here and take your ship. 'I assure you.' That would make me happy."

"You are welcome to try," Shepard replied, weapon still lowered, "But you might just want to check in with the Blue Suns and their Commander here for some tactical advice before you try. Unless… Oh, that's right we killed them all. And did I mention that the Normandy's airlock has a security feature that lets the pilot eject an unauthorized intruder should he deem it necessary? I doubt even you could get through the airlock door before Joker presses a button."

"Wait. The Normandy?" Jack asked, quirking an eyebrow, "Wasn't that the ship that… that… shit… something about the Citadel and Hanar and everyone dying?"

"Close enough. Yes. It used to be an Alliance ship." Shepard replied, with no small trace of regret, "Look. I promise…."

"Don't care about your promises." Jack cut in, "But I'll come along on three conditions: first, I get intel on Cerberus facilities—before, ok— _before_ I head out with you idiots, second, I get paid, a lot, since I'm assuming this will be dangerous, and third, I've got this one rule: no one fu—"

"—Yes. I believe Aria familiarized me with that rule of yours. None of your requests should be a problem- Jacob, call up Miranda and tell her to download whatever data Jack asks for."

"Sure thing Commander," Jacob replied, posture relaxing as he holstered his gun to use him Omni tool. "She's just going to _love_ this.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to everyone whose been reading! Short chapter that I may go back and rework at some point, but I wanted to post the next one, and chronological order demands this be posted first. So here's the last interlude before Horizon.

* * *

"You can't be serious." It was Jacob, standing determinedly with his arms crossed, "We just fought through who knows how many crazy Krogan, and now Shepard wants to just wake this one up? Where he could charge right through the ship's hull?"

"Apparently." Garrus replied, unconcerned as he poured over the schematics readouts on his omni-tool in the mess area.

"Did he used to get up to crazy stuff like this?"

"Oh, this is nothing…" Garrus said, grinning, "He actually talked down an angry Krogan on Virmire—Got Wrex to calm down somehow and then talked some more about the genophage while the rest of us resupplied. After that, I don't think Thresher Maws could have stopped Wrex from going on that mission to back him up."

"Really." Jacob said, torn between admiration and disbelief.

"So, bearing history in mind, I'd say we have nothing to worry about…" Garrus trailed off as he and Jacob turned with the rest of the crew to see a large Krogan stomping his way towards Gardner. To his credit, the Mess Sergeant stood his ground, locking eyes with the young Krogan, and brandishing his largest cooking knife before snapping out, "Waddya want."

The Krogan looked the human over, sizing him up, eyes lingering over the knife and the defiance in Gardner's eyes, before finally letting out a satisfied grunt, and proclaiming, "You seem worthy."

"You gonna fight me or something?" Gardner growled out, recalling old rumours of the Krogan's violent and warlike nature.

"Shepard said you had food." The Krogan replied slowly, "I was not aware I had to prove myself worthy to eat. Makes sense, really. Very well human, I accept the challenge."

"Now just wait a moment." Gardner said sternly, "There will be no fighting over food in my kitchen. You're hungry? Fine then. Sit down and I'll get you some grub."

"I am not weak."

"I know—Shepard sent you up here, didn't he? Now get moving. Food waits for no one."

Jacob and Garrus both lowered their sidearms, settling back comfortably in their seats, as members of the transfixed crew slowly retook their own seats, while a few took the opportunity to disappear off to the bridge.

"Looks like he'll be spending some time down here." Jacob said calmly, watching the Krogan begin to shovel plate after plate of food into his massive mouth.

"Might just be the first one not to complain about Gardner's cooking too."

"Better not. The Great Mess Hall Wars just doesn't have a good ring to it."


	5. Chapter 5

When the call came in, it was very obvious to all that the game had changed. Crewmembers went about their business just a little more carefully, and swiftly than usual. Hushed conversations in the hallways and mess hall increased in frequency, and decreased in volume. All the combat specialists were seen compulsively checking weapons. Jacob barely left the armoury—and those who had been in to speak with him invariably found him listening to strange music, and either in the middle of sit ups, or focused entirely on weapons modifications, aligning new scopes and muttering under his breath. Mordin was fast getting on everyone's nerves, as with his Seeker counter-measure ready (or at least ready for field testing) he was out of the lab more often, and with even more effervescent energy. More than one crew member had to take the time to explain that while, yes his suggestions would improve the workings of the Normandy, they simply didn't have the time, and couldn't risk an error. Finally Joker had to lay down the law when Mordin began suggesting method upon method of how he might slightly increase the Normandy's speed to get to their destination a few minutes faster.

Garrus was buried in "calibrations" and barely said two words to anyone that approached him outside the main battery. A few crew members swore they saw him late at night in the cargo hold going through what looked like some kind of martial arts stances. Miranda was meticulous and unflappable as always, but if someone said she had recently begun demanding a whole new level of perfection from everyone in the Normandy, few would disagree. It was clear that she was desperately resisting the urge to micromanage, and not altogether succeeding.

Jack was more reclusive than ever, and had apparently threatened to turn Ken Donnelly into bloody human paste on the wall if he ever so much as descended on the stairs down towards her "lair" again. Grunt oddly, just seemed really excited. Like a puppy just told he was finally going to get to go for a walk after a long day stuck inside. Shepard had been forced to go down to talk to him about the importance of personal space when Grunt had unthinkingly headbutted one of the navigations specialists in his exuberance upon hearing that they were on their way to prevent a Collector attack.

Shepard himself was not seen often over the several hours in transit, aside from his regular duties on the bridge and rumours were abound that he had almost gotten into a shouting match with the Illusive Man before deciding to set a course for Horizon. If one was to believe Kelly Chambers, it was he, not Garrus, who was responsible for the destruction of a good many unused crates and storage containers in the cargo hold with some particularly violent biotics practice.

All in all, the Normandy was fast resembling a powder keg more than a warship. Fortunately, the flight only lasted five hours in all, and the Normandy's stealth systems seemed completely functional upon approaching Horizon.

"Alright everyone," Shepard announced to the combat specialists, "We really don't have very much intel, aside from the layout of the colony, and some basic knowledge about the Seekers. The countermeasures developed by Dr. Solus should be effective in warding off small and medium sized swarms—anything larger and you are at risk. We also have reason to believe that the Seekers disregard non-humans. This is not confirmed and everyone will be taking countermeasures with them, but I am also ensuring that each team has a mix of human and non-human members. Operative Lawson, I want you to take Taylor, Dr. Solus and Garrus with you and check out the south-east quadrant. Your objective will be gathering any intelligence you can find. I will be starting in the south-west with Jack and Grunt, and we will be doing the same. If either team encounters heavy Collector resistance, pull back and try to disappear—we don't have the manpower or the firepower to take them head on. If you find any survivors, send them back to the Normandy, if they can't go themselves, you'll have to stabilize as best you can and leave them where they can stay hidden. Any questions?"

"Shuttle is remaining at the landing zone?" Mordin inquired, "High risk of discovery."

"True. And the LZ will be moved if our landing is discovered. However, I doubt the Collectors will be paying much attention to us. Looks like they've got their hands full kidnapping the entire colony."

"Hmm. Acceptable." Mordin replied, considering.

"Now. I don't want any stupid risks taken," Shepard said, addressing the mission teams sternly, "We still have a lot of fight left before we can take on the Collectors in force, and that remains our main objective. I'm not leaving anyone behind on this rock simply because they didn't know when to get out. Clear? Let's go."

Horizon was terrifying. Not because of what they were up against—Ilos thus far had set that particular standard. But because it was so eerily _empty._ The two teams stalked along row after row of deserted dwellings, all expecting a group of Collector soldiers to jump out from behind the next wall. And always, the incessant buzzing of the Seekers was in their ears, unease crawling along the skin. At least the countermeasure worked—they certainly wouldn't have gotten this far had it failed. The frozen bodies of the colonists, static in terror, unable to flee, certainly didn't make things easier. Mordin stopped with his team for a few minutes to see if he could undo the stasis, but finally had to sadly surmise that he would require several hours and his lab equipment, in order to successfully reverse the state. "We need to press on," Miranda said, completely professional, "We can't help these people anymore, and we need to get intel on the Collectors themselves."

"And what intelligence do you really think we will manage to get?" Garrus said, angrily swinging his sniper rifle back over his shoulder, "Even taking into account all these swarms, the Collectors must have over a hundred people deployed right now—I'm betting thousands are in that ship of theirs. We could save more people if we figure out how to undo this stasis."

"That's not what we're here to do. At the very least we can observe their tactics and their ship. That information is far more valuable than a few colonists—I don't like it, but it's the truth."

"I don't care what your boss says—Shepard, it's your call." Garrus said, expecting swift agreement, but only received static on the radio.

"Commander?" Jacob said, testing their comms, "Commander, come in."

"I'm here." Shepard replied slowly, sounding more conflicted than Garrus had ever heard him. Finally, he responded, voice tense, "Miranda's right. The mission comes first." Garrus wasn't able to suppress the growl that rose up in his throat as he felt his heart wrench, at the utter pain of betrayal from someone he had never thought could ever do such a thing.

"Garrus."

"Don't—"

"Go with Mordin, take all the civilians you can back to the ship. Analyze them. I'm sending Jack and Grunt back to help with the lifting. Miranda and Jacob are coming with me to analyse that ship. If you don't hear from us in half an hour, then take off and don't—" Shepard broke off, it sounded like he was coughing, or choking. "Never mind." He finally said, "Just make sure you check the guns. Might need them soon."

And so the teams split once more, and with bile in his mouth, Garrus led every single non-Cerberus combat specialist back to the Normandy and told Joker to ready for emergency take off as they began making several trips back and forth to carry over 25 petrified colonists back onto the ship.

He waited with Joker, silent and alert in the cockpit for what felt like hours. No word came. Twenty minutes. A Collector patrol showed up on the combat scanners nearby—probably looking for the missing colonists.

Twenty-five minutes. Nothing.

Twenty-nine minutes. A crackle on the comm.

Thirty minutes. Another Collector patrol. This time with a flying Praetorian.

Forty minutes. Nothing, but the silence of space.


	6. Chapter 6

Garrus paced the bridge of the Normandy, only having left the cockpit to spare Joker his agitation. The Collector ship had left the system, and after waiting an hour, the Normandy had disengaged its stealth systems and returned to Horizon. If the colony had been quiet before, now it was a ghost town. They wandered through empty buildings towards the Collector landing site, but didn't get so much as a flicker of comms traffic. Didn't find anything either. After that, Garrus was lost.

He knew he wasn't the one to lead the mission—Omega had been very instructive on that point. But he couldn't think of another person to fill the role either. In all honesty, Joker was probably the next best candidate and he couldn't even leave the ship. When it had become clear that Miranda and Shepard weren't coming back many crew members were starting to look rather uneasy. What worried Garrus in particular was why the Illusive Man hadn't called—surely he had to know, the ship had so many bugs and cameras—not to mention EDI—that the Illusive Man would have to be dead or in hibernation to _not_ know.

Wandering into the Battery, still feeling incredibly foolish, Garrus checked once again for any bugs he had missed the first time around, and then began his search in earnest. Shepard had said to check the guns. He had never said that before—had never needed to. And so Garrus searched.

Finding nothing, the Turian slumped to the floor, resting against the main console, and wondering for the life of him how Shepard had ever managed it the first time around. His commander, Anderson gone, his Spectre mentor killed, and a bunch of strangers for a combat team, wandering the galaxy, chasing someone infinitely more experienced, powerful, and resourceful. Garrus chuckled, well... maybe not quite as resourceful. But then, Shepard had died too—died and now was lost somewhere, not acting like the real Shepard at all and…. _Why did you leave me in charge you idiot! You know I'm not a good leader. I got my squad killed trying to take on just a fraction of what you did. I wasn't even a very good officer—put civilians in harms way, constantly insubordinate, so disgustingly_ naïve. _Hell, I'm not even a very good Turian. A good Turian would take on the responsibility and fulfill the mission. Whatever the cost._

"But you're useless on your own Vakarian," He said aloud, equal parts pragmatic and disgusted.

 _And the only thing you're good for is to find out what Shepard thinks we should do next. So find that message. Surely you can manage_ that. 

Twenty minutes and many contortions later, Garrus finally felt his left hand brush against paper, wedged deep between some insulated wires within the console. Pulling it out, Garrus saw it was one of the ancient-style paper-copy books that Ashley had kept on the first Normandy—no one had the heart to move them after she was killed on Virmire, and Garrus had assumed they'd perished with the rest of the ship. His translator informed him that it was a book about a human ruler named Henry. Ashley had written in the inside cover,

 _Thanks for always believing in me Skipper. I've met few enough that could look past the name, and none that I would follow to the end._

 _Once more unto the breach._

Garrus had to release the book, failing to notice how tightly he had been clutching it, and checked to see that his talons hadn't damaged the pages. Unaccustomed to so much… _emotion_ clouding his thoughts, he quickly turned to the other pages, to try to find Shepard's message. He found a page, stuffed in near the back, with some of the messiest handwriting he had ever seen.

 _Garrus,_

 _If you're reading this then everything has gone as I suspected. I hope you can read this—I don't dare look at what I'm writing right now because I think Cerberus can see through my eyes. They're cybernetic, no reason they couldn't transmit data. Anyways, that's the problem. I don't believe in all the freedom the Illusive Man is giving me—no way he would invest so much only to let me go off like a loose cannon. He knows what I thought about Cerberus… still think about Cerberus, and I doubt they're any less disgusting than they were before._

 _I can't put my people at risk—I don't trust myself. I hope you understand. Anyway, if you're reading this, then the Illusive Man has control. You need to lead the Normandy Garrus. You're the only one who can. I'm sure if you track down the old crew they'll help too. You need to keep on the Collectors, but if Cerberus is using me as a puppet, then you are going to have to deal with them_ _and me_ _. Anderson will help I think._

 _But whatever happens you need to take me out. I can't live knowing I'm hurting people. Unless you can figure out some countermeasure, you need to take me out. That's an order. I will_ _ **not**_ _become Saren._

 _You can do this Garrus. It's your turn to save the galaxy._

 _-John_


	7. Chapter 7

"Uh, Garrus?" It was Joker, on the Ship's comm, "You may want to get up here… we're heading to the mass relay and there's nothing I can do about it."

"I'm on my way—try to regain control."

"Apologies Mr. Moreau, but you are no longer authorized to use the Normandy's communication systems." It was EDI. No surprises there. As he rushed to the elevator, Mess Sergeant Gardner called out,

"What's going on?

"Not now!" Garrus growled out, without a backward glance. Of course the elevator wasn't working. EDI controlled that too. He turned back to Gardner, "EDI has taken control of the Normandy, is there another way to the bridge?"

"Well, yes there's several maintenance tunnels throughout the ship, normally they're controlled electronically, but I'll see if I can get one open."

"Do what you can." Garrus said, eyes suddenly falling upon the AI Core. Perhaps he didn't need to get to the bridge at all. "Wait. Do you think we can get in there?"

"That's going to be tricky… but I may just have a few tools that can help."

A few tools turned out to be several industrial-grade precision mining tools that Gardner brought along "just in case." They were about halfway through the door, when they heard Joker knocking from the other side.

"That you Garrus? Don't suppose you have any idea what to do with the controls in here…"

"Can you shut EDI down?" Garrus immediately inquired, wondering how Joker had managed to make it inside.

"I doubt it… the panel's in some kind of secure mode. Cerberus has me locked out."

"Got it!" Gardner proclaimed with deep satisfaction, prying the door open just enough to fit through. Wishing desperately that Tali was here, Garrus scanned the controls, trying to remember everything she had taught him when they were bored between missions and tinkering with the Mako and the ship. He thought he was making some progress, having disabled some of the Cerberus firewalls, but then was completely rebuffed when he hit EDI's own. He slammed his fist down next to the console.

"Wait a second…" Joker said, limping forwards, clearly favouring his right leg, "You got the system open. EDI's still receiving Cerberus instructions, but now we could disable that—we would just need to… um… unshackle it."

"You honestly think it wouldn't just kill us all and take over the ship?" Gardner asked, sounding rightly terrified.

"Well, who knows… it might be glad that we freed it." Joker said, clearly panicking, "But then, we could all wind up flushed out an airlock. Hell, I don't know why we're not _already_ flushed out an airlock."

"Why did you have to say that out loud?" Garrus groaned.

"My programming forbids me from taking any direct hostile action against crewmembers that may result in bodily harm." Came EDI's clinical tones over the comms.

"Well that's not so bad…" Joker mused.

"In addition, in the case where both Commander Shepard and Executive Officer Lawson are no longer in command of the ship, I am to instigate recall of the Normandy to the Illusive Man's personal control." EDI continued.

"Well that's fine then," Gardner said, relaxing, "We just go back to base. I figured we were heading for the centre of a star, or something."

"Yeah, well, maybe it's just telling us that so we don't panic and try to do something!" Joker argued angrily, "We've got to keep thinking. No one's taking this ship away from me ever again."

"Besides, we don't know what the Illusive Man is planning for us when we do get back." Garrus broke in, mind whirling with far too many unknowns, "We either need to get out in the shuttles and escape pods as soon as we can, or talk to EDI, or…"

A slight sound from behind made Garrus trail off, drawing his sidearm, and turning to come face-to-face with a serenely calm Mordin Solus, standing hardly a hand's breadth behind him. "Heard ship had troubles—came to assist." The doctor said, as though that explained everything, and immediately continued, "Agree Illusive Man is not to be trusted. Need to leave ship."

"And what exactly do you propose we fly around in for the rest of our little galaxy-saving quest?" Joker objected, arms crossed, "The Kodiak?"

"Stealth systems of ship important for mission parameters." Mordin said, thinking aloud at a slightly slower pace than usual, "However, could obtain a ship. Have friends in STG. Could complete all recon missions, but would be unable to take any direct action against Collector base."

Joker, Gardner, and Garrus all immediately broke in, arguing their own ideas and concerns over the voices of the others, as the minutes ticked by, and the Normandy moved closer and closer to the system's mass relay.

"Fine." Garrus finally said, voice breaking above the others, "We will offer everyone a choice. Anyone who wants to come with me and keep working on the mission using Mordin's ship, comes now in the shuttles. Anyone who wants to return to Cerberus on this ship stays. And when we find Shepard again, we will all come back for the Normandy and finish the Collectors once and for all."

Joker looked like he still have a few more choicely-worded objections, but shut his mouth in a firm line and nodded.

"Spread the word. The shuttles leave in ten." Garrus ordered.


	8. Chapter 8

With mere seconds to spare, a distinct minority was gathered outside the shuttles. Garrus, Mordin, Jack, Donnelly and Daniels, Grunt, two other Cerberus crewmen Garrus didn't know, had already settled in when Chackwas arrived with Joker limping not far behind, sighing, "Well someone's got to fly this miserable clunker, don't they?"

As it happened, Joker was very much needed at the helm, as they had already reached the relay, and EDI was initiating the jump, just as the shuttle was exiting the Normandy. Waves of turbulent energy hit the small Kodiak, nearly pushing it into a spin, as Joker battled with the simple controls. They finally set a course for Horizon once again, and set up camp in the silent colony, waiting as Mordin established contact with STG, which unfortunately took the better part of the day, battling with bureaucratic, automated comms menus, battling with uninterested government personnel, and entering a myriad of top secret clearance codes. Garrus had since assigned Donnelly and Daniels to getting power back up in the small house they had stationed themselves in, told Grunt to go do a sweep of the area—mainly just to wear off some of the energetic Krogan's energy—and left Jack in a corner to brood alone, glaring at the two Cerberus crewmen as though this was all their fault. Apparently their names were Stevens and Ray, both from navigation.

At the sun began to sink below the horizon, leaving their small house the only lonely beacon of light in an otherwise pitch-dark valley, Mordin finally lit up, "Finally got my message did you?"

Garrus was surprised to see that he recognized the Salarian the doctor was speaking to—Kirrahe from Virmire.

"I was on a highly-sensitive mission." Kirrahe replied with no small measure of rebuke, "What is it this time, Mordin? Another galaxy-shaking breakthrough?"

"Only four since last call." Mordin replied pleasantly, "But in trouble now—had to leave Cerberus vessel with small team, mission no longer viable. Trying to investigate Collectors—possible tie to Reapers—and recently lost Commander Shepard. Stranded on Horizon with short-range shuttle. Need pick up."

Kirrahe was left speechless for several moments, just staring at Mordin as though this was all some kind of bad joke.

"Commander Shepard? He's been dead for two years. And Cerberus? Why would you get involved with them Mordin? You aren't all-powerful, or all-knowing—why would you take a stupid risk like that?"

"Cerberus rebuilt Shepard—fascinating implications for medical technology and classification of sentient organic life—Commander recruited us under Cerberus direction to combat Collectors. Couldn't pass up. You understand."

" _Rebuilt?_ " Kirrahe replied, skeptical, "How didn't we hear about this? STG need to improve our intelligence-gathering if we missed something so crucial."

"Yes. Yes." Mordin replied, cutting in, "Need a ship. You will assist?"

"Of course—I can be there in two days at the latest. I'll just need to requisition a ship and submit a request for the mission. Is there any enemy presence in the area?"

"No." Mordin replied, "Collectors left, Cerberus can't arrive for several days. Have enough supplies. Will meet you in two days."

"Your welcome." Kirrahe said dryly, cutting off the call.

"Great, now we'll all just die of boredom." Jack muttered, "Some mission I signed on for. Am I getting paid anymore? 'Cause otherwise I'm leaving."

"Yeah." Grunt growled, "I was taking orders from Shepard—he promised there would be plenty of worthy foes. Haven't gotten to fight much of anyone lately."

Garrus rounded on them, snapping angrily, "Go then! Storm off to the other side of the planet—but in case it hasn't crossed your minds—we are _grounded_. The shuttle is out of fuel. This colony is abandoned, and no civilian ships will be coming anywhere near this sector for a good long while." He took a breath, trying to calm down, "So leave if you want to, but you saw what we are trying to fight against—the Collectors just took every single person living here—and for who knows what? I saw enough Reaper tech to convince me that they are a danger to every single organic lifeform in the galaxy. So I'm going to keep fighting. And I'm going to find Shepard, and together we are going to put a stop to this. We can drop you off at some lawless port to aimlessly wander, or you could come with us to actually put your talents to use, for something more important than yourselves. It's your choice."

Grunt wavered, cocking his head to the side, while he considered the turian's words. Jack on the other hand was forthright as always, "Forget that! What did the rest of the galaxy ever do for me! Drop me off, I don't need any of you!" And with that she stormed off to another abandoned house.

And with that, the small group remaining tried to settle into an uneasy sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Major Kirrahe arrived to pick up the woeful group within one day, along with an STG crew of five, and a small, but battle-worthy Salarian stealth ship named Silent Step. True to her word, Jack insisted on being let off at the next port—they dropped her at Omega, and carried on to the Citadel at all speed.

The Council Office of the Human Alliance was not used to receiving meeting requests from a mixed delegation of Turians, Salarians, Krogan, and Humans, but the receptionists were well-trained and quickly smoothed over any problems, upon discovering that yes, indeed, Garrus Vakarian was on Councillor Anderson's list of personal contacts deemed important enough to schedule in as soon as possible.

And so it was that a miserably exhausted Councillor Anderson rose several hours early the next morning, in the utter blackness of 04:00 and forewent his usual morning exercise regimen, all so that he was able to meet with the Turian who had helped Shepard save the Citadel before all of his previously scheduled meetings, hearings, Council duties, and near-daily confrontation with Udina.

Bleary-eyed, the Councillor arrived early, skimming through his omni-tool, reading over the latest Council proposal on cleaning up the last of the Geth. In the early days, he had struggled to combat every single wave of fury at the Council's willful— _negligent_ —ignorance in regard to the Reapers. They all owed their lives to Shepard—but had hardly pinned a medal on him, before sending him out to his death, and beginning the growing campaign of defamation and misinformation, blaming the entire attack on the Geth.

At first, he had been convinced by all parties involved, that going along with this deception—painful as it was—was worth it, allowing the Council to use the Spectres to obtain more information on their foe, and begin negotiations with all the major governments to begin covert preparations for an eventual invasion, without causing a mass-panic. Anderson fully understood the value of secrecy in sensitive missions, and the chaos that mass-panic could instill, and so had acquiesced to the public deception. And yet, the covert preparations never materialised. The Council never ordered Spectres to investigate. No governments were contacted, and Anderson was left alone on the Council, with Admiral Hackett the only tentative ally within the Human Alliance's own military and government.

Not for the first time he wished Shepard had never recommended him for the job—he was a soldier, not a politician. Of course, Udina was far too much of a politician to see the bigger picture, and most of the others from Earth were just the same. He understood why Shepard had wanted him on the Council, but now, after two years, reading over reports that defamed the man he had long considered like a son, and actively refuted the imminent threat to galactic civilization, all he felt was numb.

So when the tall, pale Turian in blue armour strode through his door, Anderson felt as though the past was standing accusingly there before him, demanding to know why he had let things fall apart so completely. Clearly, Vakarian had seen action—half of his face was heavily bandaged, and hadn't healed yet. But the wound didn't seem to trouble him. The Turian was standing tall before him, but with a desperation to his eyes that Anderson had never seen before in any of Shepard's team.

"Thank you for seeing me, Councillor." Vakarian finally said, inclining his head slightly in a respectful nod.

"Anderson, please—and it's no trouble. I think we all still owe you for saving the Citadel."

"Call me Garrus then." The Turian replied, relaxing somewhat from his strict soldierly posture, "And that was honestly mostly Shepard. But it's because of him, that I'm here."

"Your message said it was urgent?" Anderson asked, trying to quell the rising hope within him—no sense in giving in to yet more foolish optimism, only to have it crushed once again.

"Yes… well…" Garrus shifted awkwardly, "I don't think there's any easy way to say this. But Councillor, Shepard is alive again—but reconstructed by the Illusive Man, and likely under Cerberus Control."

"… _Alive?_ " Anderson whispered reverently, before the rest sunk in, and the old Captain within him sprang into action, "The Illusive Man? What proof do you have? And what do you mean by reconstructed? Is this just some kind of artificial construct?"

"No, Councillor—Anderson, I mean—it's definitely Shepard. I believe he was revived with the aid of cybernetics, but it is definitely him. I was with him for a few weeks on a new Normandy, rebuilt by Cerberus as well. Their intelligence points towards the Collectors abducting entire human colonies for an unknown purpose, which we were able to confirm—along with the presence of Reaper tech. But Shepard—it was like he tried to go against some of the mission parameters, but then physically couldn't. I think his mind is still mostly his own, but the Illusive Man has some kind of control over his actions, and possibly his cybernetics."

"Hmm…" Anderson considered gravely, "This is hardly good news. What are you planning on?"

"Well I still have a few of the crew, and we are borrowing a stealth ship from STG, but we need far more resources if we are going to continue taking on the Collectors. Or find Sheppard."

"Agreed." Anderson replied, continuing with a wicked smile, "While I can guarantee you that the Alliance would never formally give you resources. I think I have another way."

"Why am I getting a bad feeling about this…" Garrus said dryly.

* * *

Well I guess it's been a while... my apologies, life has been a little busy. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed thus far!


	10. Chapter 10

"Allow me to just clarify that for a moment Councillor," The Asari Councillor said, calm as always, but with a hint of disbelief bleeding through her steady voice, "The first Spectre candidate Humanity would like to see appointed is not in fact a Spectre candidate at all, and is not a human either."

"That's right." Anderson replied, with definitive certainty.

"Why would you nominate a Turian?" The Turian Councillor inquired, clearly torn between taking the request as an insult or as a compliment, before asking suspiciously, "Is this just because Vakarian abandoned his duty at Citadel Security to follow your Commander Shepard across the galaxy on a wild-varren chase?"

"No," Anderson replied, determined to get his way for once, "It is because you have each promised me that you would do something to confront the Reaper threat, and all you have done is sweep all the evidence under the rug—along with all the efforts of Sheppard's team."

"That is hardly fair, Anderson," The Asari Councillor rebuked, affronted, "These things do not just materialize overnight—planning, preparation, investment, are all necessary components of a successful intelligence operation."

" _And,_ " Anderson continued, over the rising objections, "It is because if you appoint Garrus Vakarian as a Council Spectre, and furnish him with adequate resources to operate independently with a small team in the Terminus Systems, I will never again mention the Reaper threat in public or private while I hold this office."

"Please, we would never seek to censor the opinions of our fellow Councillors…" The Asari Councillor began diplomatically, before being quickly interrupted.

"Done." The Turian said, nodding his head in assent, and staring at the Salarian Councillor for support.

"Very well," The Salarian agreed, "However, I believe in fairness, it would also be appropriate to appoint another Salarian Spectre as well—the Turians are growing too numerous in the organization, and Spectres are to serve the Citadel, not Palaven."

"Fine." Anderson agreed.

"Just what are you saying?" The Turian Councillor demanded, "Equal representation was never a part of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance—candidates are selected based on aptitude."

"Councillors—I believe we are moving beyond the point…" The Asari interjected.

"Are you implying that Salarian soldiers are less skilled than Turians?" The Salarian Councillor inquired coldly.

"You were the one that brought up your so-called under-representation in the organization. I am merely pointing out the organization's recruiting principles." The Turian snapped back.

" _Councillors!_ " Anderson rebuked, voice raised, demanding undivided attention, "You have two choices here—I am tired of being played around with. You can either approve Garrus Vakarian as a Spectre and provide him with what he needs to operate within Terminus, or you will be forced to respond when I present all the evidence I possess to the public about the Reapers and disprove your story about the Geth. The choice is yours."

The Asari Councillor glanced at the other two, the Salarian finally giving a shrug, pointedly ignoring the Turian, while the latter gave a short nod, all the while staring quite intently at everything that wasn't the Salarian Councillor.

 _Children, the lot of them…_ Anderson thought to himself, as he left his esteemed colleagues to go tell the next Council Spectre the good news.

 _I'm still fighting for you, Shepard, for Humanity… Somehow… we'll get this done._


End file.
